eat sh*t and die } LUPEI

[Kimber]

I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against,
because he's all I ever knew of love...

Perhaps pregnancy had made our resident bitch a bleeding heart. It was so hard for her to watch the magician pull the life from Warship, not only her lover but someone she looked up to (she'd never say that aloud). Kimber's temper and her emotions were haywire and it showed in what she was about to do. She set off towards the silver lioness that had its vines intricately woven to Warship. She reared and yelled, crashing down towards the magician but hit nothing but what felt like sliding into a canyon wall. The other mare had a protective barrier but it did not deter the little blue mare.

She never denied being insane.

As she fell away from the mare, ash flushing up around her and caught her breath she went back, time and time again - she would not quit, she couldn't. Warship had never quit on her, she would fight from this night to the next and each until either the magician grew tired or removed her immortality. She is fortunate that the magician got distracted long enough that Warship managed to wrangle loose but only barely. The blue mare finds his eyes, too, and sees the panic - the fear in her mighty warrior. Her chest feels tight and her respirations increase as she tries her best to cloak the pain of knowing what could happen. She won't give up that easily, she wouldn't let him either - she had always been a thorn in his side. "Warship, get up! I won't let you lie here!" her voice cracks but she does not waver, dragons are whirling overhead, pine trees are crashing, ents are picking horses up and throwing them but the little blue mare stands strong. She wants so badly to lie beside him, to give him comfort, to be a lady and to make him feel cared for but she is selfish. When you're not ready to give in and you're not ready to let go, you're ready to get even. "Cress! Eight! Evrae! Some-fucking-one!" she screams, the tail end frantic and echoing throughout the Chamber. The blue mare lips at his ears, nudging his head trying to encourage him to get up but much to her dismay he doesn't. "Please fight, fight for the Chamber, for your children, fight to stay alive..." she says broken, choppy, trying her best to keep her lip from quivering in fear - she fights back saying "fight for me" but now is not the time. She has to believe somewhere within herself that this is not how things end.

Kimber cannot handle this much emotional duress and every second she watches Warship groan and crawl about, she grows angrier and more full of rage. "I will kill her," she says and meets Warship's eyes before leaving; she manages a smile, a small parting gift to give to him after all the hell she has given him. "Evrae, Eight, can you hear me? I will give you my life...just take that Amazon magician's with mine!" She moves out further away from Warship, within guarding distance as a lion lunges at her and she rears to greet it. She may not be a magician, no healer, no fire-breather but she is not afraid.

It is both her most admirable trait and her worst.

Kimber

Um so basically just bawled my eyes out, Kimber is begging Warship to fight.

Kimber calls on Eight/Evrae in attempts to help her kill Prague.
@[Evrae]
@[Eight]

Kyra, I thought this could be how she gets "called out"

[Weir]

winter is coming

Sadly the shadow-mancer ducks his ball of cheer, the amber orb continuing into the distance to strike some other unfortunate soul (or fortunate depending who you ask). The ice that was intended to lock Rhonan’s legs in place misses as well but thankfully Weir had a little trick up his sleeve. That of his invisibility. He smirks, cloaking himself and Phaedrus in the cloak before the winged stallion takes to the skies, leaving it all together.  Hmmm, suit yourself Weir thinks, as he gallops off laughing.

“Fight smarter not harder,” he calls to the shadow-maker as he leaves, chortling at the stallions jibe. He’d stay and play really but he still intends to check on his good friend.

The invisible red man runs through the changing landscape, finding his way over the newly forming vegetation in leaps and bounds. It is not often that Weir runs around but he finds that when he needs them, his legs do not fail. Darwin on the other hand, has been kept in that place of in-between, his tortoise legs were no good for jumping you see.

It’s with a sudden halt that he finds Warship, Prague already pulling the life from him. Now he knows that Warship fights for the Chamber but he doesn’t think the man deserves such a death as this. His pounding chest seems to split, to break from the inside, a piece chiseled from the very organ that keeps him alive. He stops at the black General’s side, looking down forlorn and whispering sorrowfully, “Warshy-.“

Another blizzard is brewing within him. The space in which he himself stands untouched, the body and ground beneath the Chamber’s soldier as well. Outwardly the earth takes on a thick layer of ice, a mirrored expanse that is cold and smooth and slick. The winds themselves howl in a rage as they toss wildly against the Chamber, the lands filling with traits of the arctic.

The Dale’s “stand-in magician” eyes turn white, blinding light filling the once amber pools. The temperature is the next to change, to plummet into freezing from the North wind, cold enough to stop a heart, cold enough that your body might shiver and quake. Perhaps you would feel so cold that your body thinks it is warm, a lie to soothe you as you drift into a never ending sleep.

Fissures break as the ground groans and trembles. A crevasse opens here or there, an abyss to hopefully fell their enemies but he has stopped controlling them at this point…

W E I R

Invisble- Magic manipulating - Winter wielder of the Dale

weir laughs - runs around chamber to find warship - finds him and is very angry/sad and begins a blizzard in the chamber(it is FREEZING  cold, the ground is now slick ice, lots of loud fast howling winds, crevasse's opening up randomly). feel free to knock weir out before everyone freezes xD

[Evrae]

E

V

R

A

E

some say the world will end in fire

some say in ice

Mortals. Give them a little bit of power and a reason to use it, and they all go insane. The scene in the Chamber can only be described as chaos. Not war, certainly. Simply chaos. There would be no winner; only many, many losers. Too many had died already for anyone to win, really. Except those that had simply wanted chaos. They got their wish, and had never cared much about the cost.

Not that this fight was coming to a close. No, the dead were rising, unwilling to miss the fight. There was a traitor in the Valley, and more sneaking off to the other kingdoms to wreck whatever havoc they could. Evrae, for her part, stayed mostly out of it. Her job was to help when needed, and mostly, to destroy what she could.

But sadly, the light magicians felt so inclined to play with the mortals (even those with immorality were mortal, really). But then again, both Prague and Yael lived as mortals do – with families and love and other such nonsense. Even Eight had his own semi-mortal life. Evrae though? She lived like the goddess she pretended to be.

Kimber is the one to finally break, love ripping her heart into pieces. Fine, she thinks, letting out a sigh. Which is a terrible plan, really, except she’s doing it on purpose. The gust of wind that results from such a large creature’s sigh is tinged with poison and aimed at no one in particular.

She has no idea who it might have hit. There wasn’t enough poison in that breath to kill anyone (at least, she doubts it), but it could slow them down certainly, could even render them useless for the rest of the fight. Perhaps it never really reached any of them at all. She wasn’t actually trying though, so she doesn’t care.

She send a wave of healing to Warship and Lupei, knowing they need it the most, and their wounds are likely beyond the skill of a normal healer. Evrae though is not stretched all that thin, her magic only holding the tree up in the Chamber. She lets the extra trees that she’s grown in the Chamber disappear, so the kingdom returns to normal (though some of the trees in the forest remain ashen or broken).

“Prague, stretched so thin, aren’t you?” The voice calls, not necessarily coming from Evrae, but Prague will know. “Why don’t you try picking on someone your own size?” Not that Evrae is really dying to fight Prague necessarily. It doesn’t matter all that much to Evrae who wins this unwinnable war. But fighting a magician would be terribly, terribly fun.

Time to play, dear.

from what i've tasted of desire

i hold with those that favor fire

Evrae sighs poison breathe generally into the group. It can hit your horse or not, cause mild sickness or death or whatever. You can simply ignore it or have your character affected. Just a thing to add to your posts if you want. She removes all the extra trees from the Chamber, so now the Chamber is normal again (excluding Weir's whole freezing thing, she's letting someone else deal with that for now). Then she heals Warship and Lupei (though they may need some rest time to fully recover), and then single Prague out.

[Draconis]

YOU NEVER SAW IT FROM MY PERSPECTIVE, THE CRAFT THAT I PERFECTED GOT REJECTED
AND THROWN OUT THE WINDOW WITH NO PROPER EXIT.
I WAS HUMBLE, NOW I'M NOT AS PLEASANT. I'M DROPPING WRECKAGE ON YOUR SHADY DYNASTY.
BITCH I'M NOT TO MESS WITH.

Lagertha's attention, too, is drawn by Lexa's anguished scream upon discovering the body of her little sister, and she quickly gives Draconis a new set of orders, to go and help her friend before anything happens to her also.  The firebreather nods and turns away, cantering towards the carbon-coated Amazon to fight alongside her now.  But she isn't fast enough.  A shadowy wolf appears and attempts to bite Lexa, an action which fails due to the protective armor she has covered herself in.  Draconis realizes that this creature is no true wolf, as upon realization of the failure of its attack, it changes back to an equine form, and then uses some form of mimicry to don armor identical to her friend's.  In fact, it looks *exactly* like her friend, in every detail.  The young Amazon falters briefly in her charge, not expecting for an enemy who could look like anyone it wished, and even being able to copy any traits they possessed?

She continues on, however, not wanting to fail either her friend nor her Khaleesi.  As long as she keeps her eyes focused on which is the true Lexa and which isn't, things will hopefully be alright.  The star-blanketed girl sees the pretender striking at her friend and speeds up, using her momentum to strike at the shapeshifter while it is distracted and not paying attention to her actions.  She uses her hooves this time instead of her firebreath, thinking that if it truly can copy everything about another horse, letting it know about her ability might not be the wisest choice, unless the fight against it became truly perilous and there was no other option.  She comes to a sudden stop and rears, letting her forward momentum travel into her forehooves for as strong a blow as she can manage against their enemy's stolen armor.  With it, too, covered in strong armor, Draconis is not sure if she can do any damage against it, but she gives it her best shot, pounding her hooves towards the left hind leg and hoping that one: she doesn't miss, and two: that there might be a weakness, a chink in the armor, where the limb merges into the rest of the body.

[Set]

Two words. Cluster. Fuck.

The piebald remains where he’s landed, in the center of his clearing, listening intently to the roar of hatred unleashed, the cries of the dying intermingled with the cries of those left behind. He can feel the magic rippling through the air, both sides healing and creating, warring it out with might of cunning. He smiles, one ear curling back as he ushers Tatter and Niklas on, lending them the speed and strength necessary for the journey between the netherworld and the Chamber. Despite the distant din of mortal death, his small glade is eerily quiet. The fire now extinguished, the creatures of the Chamber – those without a dog in the fight – having fled for their lives. It is none but he … for now. Cocking a hind leg, his yellow eyes shift to the surrounding gloom, gathered amongst the thick copses of trees Evrae had lain down after putting out Prague’s wildfire. A thought comes to mind and he shifts, gaze narrowing in concentration as he begins to coax the intangible shadows from the forest, the pied piper of darkness. Shaping them, molding them.

He starts, a jolt of adrenaline in his gut, head drawn up out of his concentration in surprise. All at once he goes hot, then cold, his hair standing on end. Lip lifted to bare stained incisors, his head snakes around, seeking the source of the interruption. He is not looking for her – after dozens of forays into the afterlife, with Niklas always returning empty-handed, he had given up. His mind’s eye turns onto the battle and subconsciously he searches for her but her small frame is lost in the chaos of battle. Grunting, he returns to his present task. His sons will arrive any moment.

Tatter appears first, the perfect specimen, his father’s son. Arching his neck, Set greets the boy with a wide grin. “It’s been too long.” Though Tatter would return to the Afterlife at the conclusion of this so-called war, he could not resist raising him from the dead to participate. Bloodshed, the family ties that bind. Niklas stands off to the side, head turned in the direction of war as father and son reunite. Set snorts, grabbing the demon’s attention. “To the Valley,” he states simply, knowing the white-eyed creature was forever inexplicably drawn to the other kingdom. He would never fully understand it, this affinity for a kingdom that is not the Chamber, not his blood’s home, but a quick glance shows him that there is an ongoing battle there as well. He watches the other stallion turn and disappear, his hellhound bounding ahead of him with an excited yip, no doubt eager to drag more souls to the underworld.

“Let’s tear some throats out.” He smiles widely. The air around them shifts, grows rapidly colder and tense, as if someone were sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere … They’re suddenly surrounded by shadow creatures, intangible, living beings, drawing life from the energy around them – in the trees, the earth, even the sun. This allows Set to operate as their general only, not sapping the strength from his own core. There are a few dozen of them – several bears, wolverines, eagles, wolves, a few griffen, small wyrms, and phoenix – imbued with average intelligence and heightened strength. With a jerk of his head, he sends them running silently in the direction of the battle. They will attack the enemy, leaving be Chamberlings and their allies alike. He knows Tatter is like Mother in his aversion to magic but he ignores any protests his son may make. Set was not born with magic. He fought tooth and hoof for the powers that he now wields, separating him from those magicians whose claim to magic are hereditary. He would be damned if he did not use it, at least a little.

He winks. “Shall we?”

They both appear in the middle of a g—damn blizzard. The air is abnormally cold, even for the Chamber, snow and ice slippery and dangerous underfoot. Eyes narrowed, Set swings about, stretching his magic out to find the source of the synthetic storm. At first, he cannot find him – everyone around them is engaged in some sort of fight. Huffing with frustration, he searches their entire surroundings with a sonic blast of magic. They may feel a tingling as he passes through them but it is over in a split second. Weir’s been detected. Rather than strip away his enemy’s invisibility, he films his vision, unveiling any and all who have hidden themselves from sight. With a low bugle, Set turns on him, haunches tucked under as he springs forward unearthly fast. Teeth bared, he barrels down on the magic manipulator, rumbling like an avalanche as he comes, skimming over the uncertain footing. It takes only a moment for Set to close the distance between the two and his intention is to distract Weir with a physical attack. Displaying no signs of slowing down, he bugles his challenge, the ground trembling beneath him at Weir’s will. Not missing a beat, he springs at the roan. As he jumps, his traitorous body shifts instantly, now a piebald grizzly. Simultaneously, the flying shadow-creatures, drop stones from the skies, heavy rocks large enough to render anyone unconscious, though they’re aimed specifically at Weir’s head, somehow - ok, we all know how - missing Set.

A hairsbreadth from contact, he spins away from the storm-wielder, landing heavily on his right side, rolling, and springing back up in horse form. His hope is to have distracted Weir long enough for one of his shadow creatures to knock him out. If not, he sinks a bit of magic into the Chamber, anchoring it within her womb and stitching the crevasses back together again. The kingdom shudders with the force of warring commands and swiftly, Set readjusts, tying the thread of magic to Ianto's lifeforce, simply because he has the misfortune of being in Set's direct line of sight. The winter storm Set soothes, lessening its force some; all he has time to do for now. With a gallant grin, he winks at Weir, anchoring the magic countering the storm to the lifeforce of the nearest Amazon, the firebreathing Draconis. If either are fussed with without Set's consent, it will weaken the warrior mare. With that, he disappears into the forest, leaving his magical boobytraps in his wake, neatly dodging a groaning ent, determined to see for himself if the sudden burst of life - here, in the midst of chaos - belongs to who he thinks it does.

-- Set created a few dozen shadow-creatures, they draw life and energy from the earth/vegetation around them, and if you come in physical contact with them they’ll zap some of your energy too. They’re only attacking the Chamber’s enemies, under Set’s protection, and are literally made of shadow so they’re a lot harder to kill, but are only here to add more to the chaos and injure. Average intelligence but extra strong, feel free to use them!

-- He's halfheartedly attempted to knock Weir out, tied the ground together so it cannot be split, and weakened the storm. Both spells, like the shadow creatures, are tied to something else. In this case, the ground spell is tied to Ianto's life, the storm spell tied to Draconis. If either are tampered with, they'll drain strength from their respective hosts.

-- Also, he has peaced out for the moment but shall return

[demian]

demian takes ramiels hit, pulling his wing up quickly in order to avoid killing the dale king completely, barely singing a small line up the mans shoulder. his declaration to demian making him chuckle before the valley king bursts into flames entirely and shoots up into the sky heading away from the fight to follow through with his other plans.

Ooc: I'm a fail and this week got insanely busy because of me needing to finish major stuff around the house and in RL. So this post is happening : ( im sorry guys <3 let's just say he got confronted by ramiel, barely singed him as he wouldn't of attacked someone unless they were attacking his own valley members and then he respectfully backed off, took to the skies and left the chamber to start the child killing with pollock, a soon to come thing with adrie, and to signal to zuclo to start his trap in the valley.

Again I'm a fail. Feel free to OMG at me in cbox :| and judge me for this all you want. I already am judging myself so it's cool. Lmfao.

[Sidra]

Finally, FINALLY, he fights back. The asshat finally stops pussyfooting around and strikes back, barking in clear frustration. Sidra laughs, but her cockiness does her no good. SMACK, something pointed and solid connects with the top of her head.

The blow sends her tumbling sideways, but it doesn’t knock her out. Though it might as well have. She lies there, head throbbing painfully, still raging internally. She’s so pathetic, so ineffective. She’s one of the few soldiers the Gates actually has, and she knows so little about fighting that she’s already managed to get herself taken out. Fuck.

Then suddenly, everything is white.

When the light finally fades (leaving her still blinking away stars), she feels whole and healthy once again. Someone out there is on their side.

Just as suddenly a black mare appears at her side. She doesn’t recognize the girl, but she smells of the Deserts. That should at least mean she’s an ally. The mare nods in the direction of another mare, a little chestnut, that appears to be at the edge of exhaustion. A chestnut that also happens to be standing in the direct spot where the white light had come from. Coincidence? Sidra doesn’t think so.

She nods in agreement to the Desert mare and begins to head in the direction of the chestnut mare. If nothing else, perhaps she can help to protect another horse in need. Even if she can’t protect herself.

It takes more than a few moments of dodging fighters locked in combat, but eventually she reaches the chestnut mare. “Are you alright? Do you need some help?” Her dark eyes peer into the chestnut’s own. “Was … was that you? Thank you.”

Sidra

the wild child of jason x fiasko

Sidra goes with Feyre to help protect Bother.

[Yael]

oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?

While Yael’s magic isn’t hereditary in the way that some of theirs is, there’s no doubt she earned it; the continuous care of a kingdom is tiring work. Her heart seems to be boundless, creating love and life even when she is sure that the well must now be bone dry. Though she is certainly the youngest in this melee, she is far from the weakest, with Morphine’s centuries old magic simmering in her cells. Could she beat Evrae? No. But she does find it highly suspicious that she would stoop to do a Queen’s bidding. Chaos is one thing. Allying herself with a mortal (who isn’t related, though Straia’s half sister is) doesn’t make much sense. Set, she understood. The Chamber is his home. Eight, she understood as well, as the Valley was aligned with the Chamber. But Evrae didn’t call a particular place her home - she struck each kingdom with equal calamity. Goddess or no, there was no doubt where her favor lay, and Yael wonders what could possibly be in it for her.

Why would she come to get the princess in the future? Does her moral compass now swing on the whim of her mortal mistress? Straia can kill, but oh, kidnapping is bad. Tsk tsk. Evil Yael. Evrae’s hypocrisy would be laughable.

She’s late to return, having made a necessary pit stop in the Valley to wreak havoc on Pollock’s home. Whether or not it calls Eight to return to the Valley, and away from this battle, she doesn’t know, but it would be an additional perk. Yael reappears above the fighting, taking stock of the situation. At this point it’s freezing cold, slippery, and there are shadow creatures forming. With a growl in the back of her throat, the golden woman creates creatures of light to fight the dark; one for each of Set’s dark minions, and calls upon them to target only his creations, to rip their concentration from their physical targets and keep them entangled. She blatantly copies his magic, without a shred of guilt. The old have to teach the young sometime, don’t they? Theirs will be a battle of day and night, and she imagines, potentially infinite until they agree to make it stop. She ties the radiant’s energy to the other life forms in the Chamber. To their rabbits and deer, and whatever else may climb through their trees and eat their grass. There would be a lot of collateral damage when this war finally came to an end.

Confident that the shadow minions will be taken care of, Yael moves to intercept the rest of Set’s dastardly magic. It really wouldn’t do to attach things to her side of the fighters, and since Set’s left - she imagines he is otherwise indisposed at the moment. He would probably feel her meddling, but would need to come and confront her to rectify it. She can’t say that she has a problem with it, really, just what will happen if someone else meddles with it. It was actually a good idea to keep the ground closed and the storm in check. It must, however, be unusual to have the magicians meddling in their lives so much, she thinks. Literally. ‘Feeling’ for the magic, Yael reaches out and snatches the tethers away from Draconis and Ianto, taking them into herself for a moment, and then looking for someone else to transfer the magic too. It is very much like reaching for coals in a fire, except that these do not stay still; they writhe in her grasp, more than a little unhappy at being woman-handled and lashes out, burning her from the inside. She grits her teeth and reaches out for Rhonan, forcing the spell-tether to wrap itself around his life-force instead.

The two immediate problems taken care of, she spies her dragon of a mate amongst the mass of bodies and reaches out to him, delivering news that she knows will make him roar in outrage. Van, ze Valley! T’ey sent out child-keelers. One got eento ze Desert… t’ey keelled vone of ours! Nyksia.

She is about to tell him more, when Evrae calls out to Prague, and Yael groans inwardly. Should she interfere? The Jungle’s magician had done so much for their side - it wouldn’t be right to leave her hanging. Time for the big kids to play, and time for the rest of them to get the fuck out of the Chamber. This could get nasty. Yael materializes beside Prague, silently stepping up and taking responsibility for her part in this whole thing. She nods to the Jungle woman, but says nothing. She’d never fought with or against another magician before. Not like this.

Who knows what destruction they might unleash.

As an after thought, she reaches out to the Desert folk with a little announcement.Eef mageec starts flyeeng, run. I don’t know vat vill xappen…

YAEL

mother, queen, magician

- Yael created light creatures to fight Set's shadow creatures
- Changed the tethers from Draconis and Ianto to Rhonan
- Told Van about Nyxia's death
- Decided to fight Evrae with Prague


wheeeeeee.

[Set]

" There's a black bird perched outside my window, I hear him calling. I hear him sing. He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers. He sees all my sins. He reads my soul. "

Set does not have to be immediately present (though, he is really not that far off) to feel Yael.

Home advantage.

He laughs out loud – likely startling the children – when light creatures rise to battle his shadow ones. Unperturbed by Yael’s copycat use of the creatures of the forest fuel her magic, he simply cuts them off at the source. The living creatures that fuel her creations fall dead by the hundreds; those who did not flee at the first sign of dragonfire are now broken, useless pawns. “Tsk, tsk, Yael, look at all the innocent death you’ve caused.” She’ll hear him, his voice dripping with gleeful mockery.

He does not have to approach the Desert magician to stop her from meddling with his other spells. She has done exactly what he had hoped an enemy would come along and do – tamper with them. He can feel her groping for them, searching and then grasping; hot, live wires that are no doubt difficult for the younger magician to keep hold. The curve of his mouth draws ever higher the closer she gets … It is when she touches them with her magic - tampers - with them, that the trap he set is sprung. Though Yael has once again shamelessly copied his efforts, the damage is already done. In touching the threads anchored within Ianto and Draconis’ life-forces, she would have drained Ianto and Draconis’ strength; mid-battle. They would have been fine, perhaps a bit more fatigued than they would have had he not tied the spells to them, had Yael let them be.

Wrinkling his nose, sweat beading behind his ear, he funnels strength into a shield around Rhonan to protect him from any magical advances – keeping him safe until Set can deal with the spell Yael has misplaced – and sinks threads into the earth to replenish his energy (how perfect that the forest has been rebuilt magically) before returning the main part of his focus to the matter(s) before him.

SET

chain x starlace

[Draconis]

YOU NEVER SAW IT FROM MY PERSPECTIVE, THE CRAFT THAT I PERFECTED GOT REJECTED
AND THROWN OUT THE WINDOW WITH NO PROPER EXIT.
I WAS HUMBLE, NOW I'M NOT AS PLEASANT. I'M DROPPING WRECKAGE ON YOUR SHADY DYNASTY.
BITCH I'M NOT TO MESS WITH.

As she moves away from not-Lexa, Draconis angles her body so that she is coming back around in such a way to get their opponent back in her eyesight as quickly as possible, before she can lose sight of which horse is her friend, and which one is the imposter. Together, she and Lexa can face whoever this was, and bring a victory towards the Jungle. Or so the young mare hopes. But, no sooner is she looking at the pair of armored horses once again, does she feel it. The total drain, the abrupt *pull* of energy from her body. The firebreather gasps, once, twice, and feels herself falling to the forest floor. She can feel prickly pine needles and soft grass against her dark skin, but she can't move, much less get back up to resume the fight. What had happened to her? Draconis attempts to let out a scream in her sudden panic, but she can't even manage the strength for that.

All that escapes her mouth this time is a soft whimper, her head remaining attached to the terrain as if glued there. Her eyes stare out desperately in the one direction she is pointed towards, unable to look anywhere else. All she can do now is hope that someone else from their side comes along, able to help Lexa against her doppleganger, and hope also that no ents, or shadow creatures, or whatever else that been conjured up by the assorted Chamber magicians comes along to snack on a defenseless and tasty young Amazon girl. Maybe their Khaleesi would see what was happening, and come to rescue the both of them. Or her mother. She shuts her eyes for a brief moment, wishing that when she opened them, she'd see Rhy, but the scenery remains the same as before. Only Lexa and not-Lexa, whenever they moved back into her fixed field of vision that was.



Aaaaand she's down. Lol.